Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic

I love thrift stores, second hand book stores, and the like.  I always have.  If you know me, you might assume it’s because I don’t currently have a job.  You’d be wrong.  I have lots of jobs, just no salary at present and nope, it’s not about money at all.  Oh, the treasure to be found in such places . . . sometimes an unrecognized antique, other times a “whatzit” to be upcycled, and often treasure someone loved that found its way there one way or another . . . and my mind and heart spin off into wondering “if that piece could talk, the story it might tell” and often I find myself weaving a background for who drank coffee from that mug?  Who read that book?  Who curled up all cozy and listened while read to?  Did it change their life?  Did it plant a seed and quietly influence them many years after hearing it, when they’d long forgotten.

Memories . .  . Mom had an old sewing machine that someone gave away thinking it far too old to use.  It was a Singer and black with shiny gold and silver decorations and all metal parts.  Many’s the dress, skirt, or top she made for me on that machine . . . up until I was older and thought handmade clothes were uncool . . . now I have reconsidered and think of the time spent making them for me and the details added to make them special  . . . lace, embroidery . . .

More memories . . . seems I’ve been learning about Jesus my whole life.  Many’s the story I curled up to hear before bed.  Oh, then I learned to read and could get lost totally in adventures!  I could imagine myself a princess, a girl detective, a world traveler, and oh so many other things . . .  sometimes in my imagination I had a red race car and other times a pony to ride  . . . sometimes I listened to stories of Noah, of Jesus  . . .  other times poems about birds, seashells, swings, and gentle breezes . . . there was always a story .  . .

When it was cold, I’d snuggle up with the worn old quilt Grammy made and sip hot chocolate from a big mug.  “Be careful not to spill . .  . ” Mama would say.  “I will” I’d reply . . . and as I snuggled and listened, I thought how much fun would it be to learn to quilt?  Maybe, someday I’d be a writer and tell stories?  Oh, those poems are so pretty to listen to!  Maybe someday someone will read poems I write and smile?

Dreams do come true!